


Just wow, wasn't expecting that then...

by Radford_101



Category: Original Work, Violence - Fandom
Genre: Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1510703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radford_101/pseuds/Radford_101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BANG. BANG. BANG.</p><p>Three hard hits in a row. On the first, I yelped. On the second, I cringed. On the third, I froze. </p><p>There was an axe sitting amongst the haggard remainder of the door I was sitting against. I looked up and came face to face with the sharp blade that had barely missed me. </p><p>I could have died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just wow, wasn't expecting that then...

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Three hard hits in a row. On the first, I yelped. On the second, I cringed. On the third, I froze. 

There was an axe sitting amongst the haggard remainder of the door I was sitting against. I looked up and came face to face with the sharp blade that had barely missed me. 

I could have died. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I felt funny about going home that Thursday, my stomach was in knots, getting tighter and tighter with each step I took towards home. I must have been stupid not to realise what my body was trying to tell me, tingling, resisting, but I kept going. I had to stop and sit down a few times, the pain would ease off if I sat down, but it just came back when I got up again. I'm surprised I didn't pass out from it. 

When I finally reached home, nearly crawling at that point, tears streaking my face and the urge to vomit barely contained, mum wasn't home yet, she must have still been working her shift at the hospital. 'Thank The Lord for that' I thought to myself. I don't really like my mum after she comes home, she works in the emergency room, it's like she can't handle seeing so many people in pain or suffering like they do, because after every one of her shifts, she comes home looking about as depressing as death itself, sits on her armchair in the darkest, smallest corner of the lounge room, and drinks herself into a stupor. 

Or at least she used to. I could handle it when she did that.

Now she doesn't sit in her armchair, or in the darkest, smallest corner, or even in the lounge room. She doesn't just drink so that she can sleep, she drinks to forget. And when it doesn't work, she gets angry.

Violent. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I was locked in my room when I heard her barge through the door. She was yelling, and stomping, like a three year old that hasn't gotten their way. There wasn't any trace of her usual silent moping, where she'd almost tip toe through the house, as if she were walking on eggshells. She must have been drinking as she was coming home, and quite a lot by the sounds of it. 

I should have taken that as a sign not to leave my room, but I went out anyway. As I later realised, that wasn't such a good idea. 

She turned on me as soon as I entered the kitchen, like a predator assessing their prey, looming and looking for a time to strike. Her eyes were dark, the way a persons look when all the light has left them, when they're dead. No matter how dark they were, or how dark they got, I could still see the dangerous glint in them. 

My mind was screaming at me; RUN! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, RUN YOU STUPID IDIOT!! 

But I couldn't move, I was stuck, as if my feet were in quick sand. It seemed as if, with every step she took forward - toward me - I was sucked deeper and deeper into that quick sand, and the more I panicked, the deeper I went, until there was barely any air to breath, until I was gasping. 

It was when she got so close that I could smell her that I finally woke up to myself. I hate to admit it, but as my mother reached out to grab me - her fingers sharp like talons and her face twisted into a snarl - I hit her. It may have only been a slap to the face, but it was enough to shock her for long enough to run. 

And run I did, faster than I ever have before. Up the stairs, into my room, and locking the door so fast I nearly didn't believe this was all happening. But it was definitely happening, as I ran, mum picked up the axe from beside the door, the one my dad used to chop wood with in winter - not something you want to be chased with - and my running grew faster. 

Breathing heavily, panting, I slid down my door and surveyed the room for something I could use to protect myself if it came to that. My thoughts were cut off abruptly by heavy clomps on the stairs, and the sound of something large being dropped on the landing, weather it was the axe or her I don't know, followed by a few choice swears. 

I probably shouldn't have stayed where I was, leaning against my door, but I couldn't move, I couldn't breath, I was afraid she'd hear me. 

Honestly I was stupid, of course she knew where I was. But I was still surprised when I heard the first gut wrenching crack of the wood as it absorbed the first blow from the axe. There were more to follow.

I was too frightened to move throughout the axe swinging and then came the last few terrifying hits. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Three hard hits in a row. On the first, I yelped. On the second, I cringed. On the third, I froze. 

There was an axe sitting amongst the haggard remainder of the door I was sitting against. I looked up and came face to face with the sharp blade that had barely missed me. 

I could have died. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looking back at it now, I'm glad that police officer asked me about what happened. Not because I wanted to tell him really, I was a terrified child sitting in a bleak grey room, with a bunch of people I didn't know, after a life altering incidence. But the way he asked, his voice smooth and calming, was hard to resist.

 

"Tell me your story and I'll give you a dollar."

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my second or third work ever, and I've tried pretty hard editing it but haven't got a beta reader as of yet. Any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated. Thank you so much for reading this :)


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